


Putting Together the Pieces

by FlufferNutterButter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Multi, Multiverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:56:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlufferNutterButter/pseuds/FlufferNutterButter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the 30 Day Challenge on Infinite Earths, I couldn't decide on one ship, so I put the ten ships tagged above in Fruit Machine and am using that to randomize which ship I will use for which day. Ratings and warnings will vary with chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hogwarts (Mituna/Latula): G

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings for Chapter 1.

She was a mudblood. An “imposter”, as some in their class had ventured so to say. What was worse, she was surrounded by _legacies_. To her right in the dormitories slept Meenah Peixes, daughter of the most powerful witch to ever be turned out of the school. To her left? Porrim Maryam, the eldest daughter of only the most influential witch in the modern fashion world. Even those of less-respectable heritage were considered legendary; the “Handmaid” wielded two wands for a reason, a fearsome trait that her daughter, Slytherin’s Damara Megido seemed to inherit. And that wasn’t even speaking of Hufflepuff’s Meulin Leijon (mother being the most important scribe of the Ministry _and_ an Auror) or Ravenclaw’s Aranea Serket (daughter of the Marquise herself). Yes, the profiles around Latula were intimidating, and she believed that she had doomed herself from the first words she uttered when inquired as to her own heritage.

“My mum’s a lawyer.”

Certainly, that had spoken one for her class. Her dorm-mates had been a bit wary around her for the first few weeks. She didn’t fit in.

Until she showed those suckers that she knew her way around a broom.

~~~

“Dam! Sucker beat you out again!” Meenah brought her hand down hard on Latula’s back in the most comforting pat she could give; that was to say, not very comforting at all. Latula was used to this, though; it was her fourth year at Hogwarts, Meenah’s friendly abuse was old news. As was Latula’s continued failure to make Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

She wouldn’t mind if she lost out to an upperclassman. No, every year since year one, Latula Pyrope had constantly been beaten out for the position by fellow classmate Mituna Captor.

On the other side of the table, Mituna could be seen celebrating his fourth year victory with his buddies. Latula twisted her mouth to the side. Mituna really was a good guy, and it was hard to be mad at him for something like this, but there was definitely a cold grip of jealousy in her chest. Just a small one.

It was assumed that, in the midst of the girls pouting and the boys celebrating, Mituna and Latula locked eyes. Behind his fringe and behind her glasses, neither could actually see the other’s eyes, but contact was still made. Latula excused herself and left the dining hall.

She barely made it around the first corner before Mituna came crashing out of the hall towards her. “Latz!”

True to a nature that left his grace in the Quidditch field, Mituna crashed bodily into Latula from behind, wrapping his arms around her for support. She only barely managed to keep them both upright.

As soon as both balances were regained, Mituna spun Latula around and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Hey, no hard feelin’s, right? Don’t be mad?”

Latula couldn’t help but smile. Of course she wasn’t mad. She could never be mad at him.

Why was that, she wondered.

~~~

Weeks later, a Quidditch match, Gryffindor vs Slytherin, was all the school could talk about. Everyone was going. Everyone, well, except Latula.

“What do you mean, you’re not going?” Meenah and Porrim flanked Latula in the dining hall, doing their best to distract her from the breakfast on her plate so that they could interrogate her.

“Think of it as a study break, Latula,” Porrim reasoned.

“I can’t afford to take a study break! Not in Charms, anyway. I’m barely passing as is, and that’s just because the prof’s taking pity on me.” Latula pushed her food around her plate dismally. She wanted to go, really. She wanted to watch Mituna.

She frowned, shoveling the last bit of food into her mouth before standing and rushing from the hall, calling over her shoulder “See you guys later!”

She ran all the way to the library, where she grabbed up all the extra Charms books she’d need and threw herself at a table. Maybe, if she got enough studying done in the morning, she could make an exception and go to the game.

~~~

The clock’s arms kept swimming faster and faster, and before Latula knew what had happened, hours had gone by and the match had started without her. Still buried in her books, in a completely vacant library, she focused as best she could on her worst subject. The more she stared at the books, the more she could bury the desire to jump up and run to the field as fast as she could. Eventually, the desire completely disappeared underneath charms.

So immersed was she that Latula could only be awoken from her studious stupor by the sudden presence of someone behind her.

“L…Latula?”

“Hm?” Latula sat up straight, rubbing her eyes to disperse the pain of having to stare at something small for a very long time. She turned. “Meulin? ‘Sup?”

Meulin shuffled her feet nervously. One had was at her mouth; the girl had an awful habit of biting her nails when uncomfortable. Her brow was creased. Overall, she looked worried.

Meulin mumbled then, her voice muffled by her hand, but Latula could discern the words “Mituna”, “infirmary”, and “bad”. She didn’t hear anything after that, only because she brushed past Meulin and headed straight for the door.

Adrenaline either increases a person’s accuracy or decreases their ability to care about anything other than the matter at hand, because as Latula darted through the hallways, she wasn’t worried about running into anyone or anything. And she didn’t, not until she caught sight of Damara Megido.

Damara caught sight of her, too, and a slow, maniacal grin cut across her face.

Latula’s mind did the quick connections.

_Mituna=Quidditch. Injury~Quidditch. Mituna’s Injury=Quidditch. Damara=Quidditch. Damara=Beater. Mituna=Seeker._

Latula rounded out her path and ran straight for Damara, taking her to the ground.

“What did you do, you bitch?”

Damara didn’t answer, but her smile contorted into a grimace. She grappled with her adversary. Latula slapped her. Damara retaliated by reaching maroon-painted claws to Latula’s face and drawing them in a harsh line that drew blood down the Gryffindor’s cheek.

Latula reeled back, eyes wide and seeing red, literally and figuratively. She was about to go for Damara’s throat when Damara suddenly froze, eyes wide and looking over Latula’s shoulder. So taken aback was Latula by Damara’s reaction, she couldn’t stop the girl from pushing her down as Damara scrambled up to her feet, backing slowly away.

From her position on the ground, Latula could see the person who had interrupted her fight. It was another Slytherin, Kurloz Makara. Mituna’s best friend.

He reached a hand to help Latula to her feet and, wordlessly, indicated that she should follow him. She did.

He led her to the infirmary, straight to the first bed. Latula froze. Mituna was there, head bandaged and eyes closed. But he wasn’t asleep, Latula realized when Kurloz walked to one side of the bed. Mituna’s eyes opened, and when Kurloz pointed to Latula, they lit up.

“Latz!”

She unfroze then, rushing to his bedside. “Mituna! I-” she tried to blink back the sudden barrage of tears, but they slipped down her face anyway. The salt got into her wound, making it sting.

“No, Latula, ‘Tula, ‘Tula, don’ cry! Whahappen to your face? Are you hurt? Here,” Mituna patted the bedside, “If you needa go to th’firmary, y’can share my bed.”

Kurloz coughed quietly, intending to get Latula’s attention. She looked at him, and he made a fist with his hand, lightly knocking himself in the head, and then rolled his eyes to the ceiling while making circles in the air with his finger. Latula quirked her eyebrows at his demonstration, but gathered the gist of it. Mituna’s head injury made him a little loopy.

But then, Mituna grabbed Latula’s arm. “Hey Latz, I goddem to work a deal. Kay?” He pulled her arm, and she leaned down to him. He whispered. “Strider’s gonna make you Seeker now.”

Latula looked at him, shocked. “I can’t! I don’t-I just can’t!”

Mituna kept smiling, though. He pulled her down again. “You’re the best, Latz. Do iffor me? Please?”

Latula couldn’t say no when he said please. She nodded. “I’ll try. But just ‘til you get better, alright?”

Mituna didn’t reply, but leaned up to quickly kiss Latula’s unmarred cheek. When he sank back into the pillow, he immediately turned to talk to Kurloz, leaving Latula blushing.

_Loopy, huh?_


	2. Zombies (Rose/Kanaya): T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight mentions of zombie-related subjects. Major Character Death.

She died on the twelfth of June.

Rose Lalonde, author extraordinaire, and two-year survivalist did not go peacefully. She did not go without a struggle. She went with a fervor and a ferocity unknown to mankind, and she went with a single stab to the heart.

~~~

She died on the twenty-fifth of October.

Kanaya Maryam, fashionista, and expert chainsaw-wielder went quietly. She did not put up a fight. She went with a stab to the back that came in the form of a shot to the chest, and she went with only love in her heart.

~~~

They met on the eleventh of November.

White-haired, gray-skinned, undead Rose Lalonde, boundless knowledge trapped behind the slack muscles of a zombie, carelessly bumped into the paler-than-pale, raven-haired, undead Kanaya Maryam. Such light jostling was quite common in the mindless hoards of the undead, and Rose found their ennui infective, as she let herself grow so sloppy. Her past self would have been mortified, had it not been for the unfortunate occurrence of her lack of existence.

But when she just happened to lock eyes with the person she had so rudely nudged, Rose was shocked to find an actual light in gray-green eyes. A light of knowledge, of inspiration, an impossible brightness in endless dark.

Kanaya, for all of the knowledge demonstrated by her mere gaze, saw the same in Rose. An air of sophistication and wisdom, hidden by the dust of a few months dead.

Without a word, the two departed from the crowd of their not-like-minded peers and set off in another direction.

~~~

“Kan…ya.” Rose’s unused muscles had deteriorated slightly, and speaking was difficult. But those other muscles, ones she had been using constantly, her arms and legs and other major muscles, hadn’t lost their touch. She lifted the garment to her chest. “Yes?”

Kanaya eyed the black silk with a contemplative eye, smiling slightly. “Yes. With…” she pointed to a light purple sweater hanging in the back of the store. Rose nabbed that item, too, and took to changing. Something about being undead and having an undead girlfriend made one lose their self-consciousness somewhat. Also, for her more brittle muscles, it was helpful for someone else to assist in the zipping.

Rose and Kanaya had shed their bloodstained clothes early after their meeting and, in lieu of hunting down living to feast upon, had begun hunting for whatever scraps of fashion were left in an apocalyptic world.

That turned out to be quite a lot, actually. Not surprising; maybe the first thing on the survivors’ minds was not high-end fashion.

Reacquainting themselves with more humane attitudes brought Rose’s and Kanaya’s minds to their more humane thoughts. Bathing had become regular, and changing clothes. They found a surprising amount of domesticity in being undead. Almost everything was like it had been.

But, there was still one thing that was abnormal.

The feeding.

~~~

It got to Kanaya at times. After feeding, Rose wouldn’t be surprised to find her huddled in some corner, invisible tears wetting cheeks that had a hard time feeling them. At those times, Rose would hold her, and kiss her, and do her best to sing some comforting tune until Kanaya no longer felt bad. The sadness of killing, the acknowledgement of taking a life to feed on the flesh, had never quite gotten to Rose. Rather, she saw it as a blessing to her meals; they only nabbed the ones who would most likely get eaten soon anyway. They ended their victims’ lives quickly and painlessly.

And they never, ever left them to become another undead.

~~~

One day, Rose asked a question. It was the longest, most coherent thing Kanaya had ever heard her say.

“What if we got married?”

Kanaya looked at Rose long and hard, watching her face for any signs of joking. When a full minute passed, and no part of her expression cracked, Kanaya nodded.

“I’ll try to find a dress.”

~~~

Winter passed, and spring arrived.

Rose ruminated on the last spring she had spent, who she had spent it with, and what had happened.

She also wondered if zombies had gag reflexes, because she certainly wanted to be sick, at this moment.

“R-Rose? Rose…”

She couldn’t believe it. How was it that, after months and months, they were all still alive, still together, and still looking for her?

“Rose… I’m so sorry…” John Egbert choked on a sob. Rose figured she might’ve been crying, too, if the possibilities of zombie tear ducts hadn’t already been explained. She tightened her grip on Kanaya’s arm. The other girl was shaking. Rose herself was shaking, too. It had been a while since either had fed. The two undead looked at each other.

“Dave, no!” Jade shrieked, grabbing his arm just as he raised his rifle.

“Jade, we’ve gotta do this!”

Jade was already crying, tears streaming down a tanned, red-flushed face. There was a vitality in her movements that Rose lacked. That she missed.

How long had it been since she’d seen a living human as something other than food?

Rose caught a glimpse of herself in the window of the car that her old friends were using, and for the first time in a long time, she compared herself to the living.

The differences were horrific. Rose caught Kanaya’s gaze in the reflection. Her shivers were even more noticeable.

Kanaya slipped her hand down to Rose’s, and they just held hands for a minute. Then, Rose turned to Dave.

“…shit.” Dave went pale. “You’re still fuckin’ in there, aren’t you?”

Rose put her hand on the barrel of the gun. Dave jerked back.

“No, Rose. We won’t hurt you,” Jade assured, her voice cracking. She reached out her hand, and Rose reached to meet her.

“Whoa!” Dave yanked on Jade’s arm, pulling her back. Jade pulled away from him.

“Walk away.”

“But-”

“Dave.”

John put himself in between Dave and everyone else. “Come on, man. Just take a step back. Rose isn’t going to hurt us.”

Rose watched Dave’s conflicting expressions. To his credit, he didn’t say anything.

Rose approached Jade again. She watched her hand when she reached for the other girl. She couldn’t keep herself still.

Jade had a rifle of her own, one that surpassed Dave’s in every way. Rose remembered it well. She reached for it now.

“Jaaade… Please….”

Jade let loose another sob. John and Dave looked equally as upset.

Rose reached for the gun. “Please…”

Jade shrugged the rifle off and leveled it at her. “Rose, please. Don’t… We don’t have to do this. If you’re-I know you’re still in there. I know. And I know you won’t hurt us.”

Rose shook her head, reached for the gun, and aimed the barrel at her own chest. Then, she nodded.

“Yes.”

“Rose, I don’t-Please…”

“Jade… Thank… You…” Rose looked back to Kanaya. “Love… You.”

Kanaya nodded. She walked up to her girlfriend-fiancée, and she held her from behind. She then looked at Jade.

Whatever would make pulling the trigger easier. Jade didn’t know Kanaya. Taking down an unknown zombie was all part of the job.


	3. Medieval (Eridan/Feferi): T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably doesn't warrant the T rating. I just get paranoid.

Being a prince was a wonderful thing, Eridan decided. He could do whatever he wanted, to whomever he wanted, and nobody could tell him shit because he. Was. A. Prince.

Nobody could tell him anything. Nobody could make him do anything. Especially not vaguely familiar girls and/or possible childhood friends being brought in for accusations of witchcraft and treason against the crown.

Wait, what?

~~~

In his father’s absence, Eridan was, rather irresponsibly, acting head of the kingdom. That meant that he had to deal with all of his father’s kingly duties, such as making royal decrees, lording over the peasants, and passing judgment on anyone brought before him.

A mere week before his father was set to return, and Eridan set to relinquish control yet again, he found a lull in activity. At the time, he yearned for something new, something to require his self-important vast intellect.

A boy like him, who was seemingly protected from all wrong, had never learned to be careful what he wished for.

“Your Highness! A traitor of the Crown has been brought in!”

Eridan sat higher in his chair. “Who is this traitor, and what are the charges?”

“The girl says her name is Feferi Peixes. She has been brought in on the charge of witchcraft, your Highness.”

~~~

Eridan hadn’t wanted to see Feferi Peixes when she had been brought in. No, the name struck a chord somewhere deep in his mind, and he retreated to his chambers to sit and think _why_ her name sounded so familiar.

He decided that sleep would be the best way to ruminate on the situation, so he ordered the guards to take her to the dungeon for the night. In his princely silk bedclothes, he tossed and turned as the moon rose outside his window.

Moonbeams shone brightly through the glass, reflecting off of any shiny surface, and when Eridan shifted his position, he suddenly found himself taken aback by the brightness of the light shining off of one of his rings that he had left on the bedside table. As the rosy glow glinted in his vision, Eridan inhaled sharply, memories coming to him in long waves. For minutes, he was completely stunned as his mind took him to his childhood, playing in the woods or on the beach with a girl whose eyes shone like jewels.

When he was able to gather his wits about him, Eridan made for his closet and grabbed a cloak. His glasses and that single ring were adorned, and then he was out the door.

~~~

The night was cold, holding onto the last breaths of winter, and the stones of the castle paths were icy against Eridan’s bare feet, but he didn’t care. He ran as fast as he could, heading straight for the prison tower, under which the dungeon lurked. When he reached it, he fixed the night guards with his most stern glare.

“I have arrived to converse with the prisoner Feferi Peixes. Let me through.”

Nobody dared tell him otherwise.

The door was opened, and Eridan once again met with the cold stones as he rushed to the cell in which Feferi was held.

When he reached the steel bars, he couldn’t catch his breath. Maybe it was the nerves.

“Miss-” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Miss Feferi Peixes, I am-”

But Feferi, who had been sitting in the corner of the room, looked up and smiled. She cut him off.

“I know who you are. Your name is Eridan Ampora, your favorite color is purple, and when you grow up, you want to be a wizard.”

Eridan couldn’t help the smile that came to his own lips. Since those long-forgotten memories had reemerged, he knew he could respond in kind.

“Yeah. And your name is Feferi Peixes, your favorite color is pink, and when you grow up, you want to be queen.”

Feferi beamed at his words, but the light quickly fell from her eyes. She looked away, her smile turning to a rueful expression.

“Looks like neither of us got quite what we wanted, did we?”

Eridan sighed, kneeling before her. “Fef, what happened?”

“It’s… a long story. Eridan, I really, _reel-_ y need you to help me out here.”

“Fef-”

“Eridan, _please_.”

Eridan looked away.

~~~

He spent the next two days avoiding anyone and everyone, lurking in the shadows and only being seen when he ran to the kitchen for meals. All appointments were cancelled, he decided nobody’s fate, and the kingdom was left to its own.

While he sat in his room, Eridan spent all of his time thinking to himself. He had a duty to the kingdom, a duty that demanded he be fair. But he didn’t have to be fair. He was a prince. They couldn’t tell him otherwise.

Still, it would reflect really badly upon him if he were to show favoritism.

But he was a prince!

But if his father knew he spared mercy to a witch, he’d be doomed.

Eridan groaned, standing up and storming off, away from his room.

But Feferi was his childhood friend.

But if she were so important to him, why did he forget about her?

Why… why indeed?

~~~

He didn’t even speak to the guards as he blew past them, striding with an imperial authority straight to Feferi’s cell. He grabbed the keys from their place in the guard-box, unlocked her cell door, and threw it open with a flourish. Feferi started.

“What-”

“What did you do, Fef?”

“I don’t know what-”

“To me.”

The way Feferi bit her lip and knit her brow told him everything he needed to know. She did something. Years and years back, she did something to him.

“I had to, Eri! Magic is illegal! And, and I know we had fun and all, but you were gonna be king, and I couldn’t go on, I couldn’t-couldn’t let you know… not anymore…”

“So you wiped my memories so we wouldn’t wind up… here.”

“Yeah.” Feferi sighed. “Fat lot of good that did.”

Eridan reached for her. “We could’ve worked something out, Fef.”

“We couldn’t.”

“We could! I-”

_Loved you._

_Love you._

_Want to help._

Eridan motioned for Feferi to follow him. Tentatively, she stood and followed, stepping out of the cell. He closed the door behind her.


	4. Spies (Jane/Roxy): T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T for mentions of alcohol.

There were three things that let Roxy Lalonde know that her day was not going to go well.

Firstly, her morning martini wasn’t made with the right vodka. She found herself choking on some cheap-as-shit vodka mixed with fucking Kool-Aid. It sent an unpleasant jolt through her system, and she downed it as quickly as possible, if only to get on to one with better vodka.

Secondly, she was interrupted on her journey to the kitchen by the one and only Dirk Strider, in the very well-toned flesh. Honestly, she was interrupted by his pecs, which were at her eye level when she turned the corner of the hallway.

Leading directly on from the second thing, the third thing that told her that her day was not going to go well was the folder that Dirk had for her.

“Jane Crocker. Twenty-two. Nine-thirty tonight. The Wanderer’s Bar.”

“Goodmurn’ to you too, Stid-sorry, Strider.”

“Bad martini?”

Roxy pouted. “Tasted like toilet water.”

“Shame.”

She fell forward into Dirk’s chest, wrapping her arms around his torso. “Diiiiiiirk…”

Dirk sighed, relenting enough to wrap his arms around Roxy and pick her up, lugging her to the kitchen and sitting her down on the counter. He mixed her a martini like he knew she liked it.

“Try to lay off, okay? Your job’s to get _Crocker_ drunk, not get drunk yourself.”

“Says the man fixing my drink.”

Dirk handed her the glass, and Roxy savored the first sip. In that respect, Dirk could be hypocritical. And he could make a damn good martini.

A martini made by Dirk Strider’s very skilled hands (wonk) was a true treasure, and Roxy treated it as such, so it stretched to occupy her time for the next few hours as she pensively, or as pensively as she could, considering her obvious drunkenness.

She knew who Jane Crocker was, of course. Everyone knew who Jane Crocker was. But this folder gave Roxy more information than she cared to know about the girl, and it had information that some hardcore Crockerfans would kill for.

It was lucky that the information had found its way to a person who couldn’t care much about the subject. It was just another job.

~~~

For just another job, Jane Crocker sure was cute, and Roxy thanked her lucky stars that Dirk had cut her off, lest Roxy became too caught up in flirting to do the job right.

She adjusted her dress and checked herself in the window’s reflection, tossing her hair and smiling seductively to herself. Then, she strutted over to where her target was sitting.

“So!” She rather boisterously threw herself onto the barstool next to Jane. She batted her eyelashes. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

For her part, Jane put on a polite face. “Oh, you know. Just… watching.”

Inwardly, Roxy was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. If this were the way Jane would be the whole night, this job was going to be a piece of cake.

~~~

“Okay, so, but I get whar-where, where you’re comin’ from, right? Men. Can’t live with ‘em, all that jazz. But ya-” Roxy took a final sip of her martini, “Ya gotta keep your options open, right? Can’t stay off th’market forever. Girl like you, out there, you’ll gah… got em eatin’ out of your hand.”

“Maybe so…” Jane giggled, “But it’s hard to… I’m sorry, do you want another?”

“I really shouldn’t.” Roxy stared solemnly at her empty glass.

Jane called over the bartender and got her friend another. She smiled.

Who knew getting the infamous Roxy Lalonde to crack would be so easy?

“Like, we’d start with your outfit, and stuff. You’ve got shape, girl, an’ s’cute. But ya gotta play it up. No more business clothes when yur tryin’ pick up hot singles in your area. I know a gal, she can hook us up.”

“Oh, I couldn’t-”

“Yes, you could. I insist.” Roxy pulled out her phone and fiddled with it, suddenly frowning. “I’ll be right back.” She stood and headed to the bathroom.

Jane seized the phone on the table. Roxy hadn’t shut it down, and she hadn’t locked it. All of the information Jane needed was bound to be there.

Good on her for getting her competition too inebriated to notice.

Jane hooked a cord between her phone and Roxy’s and started downloading information from Roxy’s phone. As the folders flashed on her screen, Jane smiled. She was sure she’d gotten Roxy to spill some login information in the middle of her drunken rambling, too.

As soon as the phone dinged, signaling its completion, Jane yanked the cord and stood. She needed now to only make a quick getaway before Roxy came back, but all of the martinis the blonde had downed were definitely going to have an effect on her. Jane would have plenty of time to make her getaway.

So she did.

But as she speedwalked down the street, smiling in her victorious glow, her phone buzzed. She checked it, and saw a message from Roxy.

_We never exchanged numbers…_

Jane didn’t open the message, but it opened on its own.

_lets doit agen sometime!_

_*agan_

_*again_

The phone screen blacked out then, and Jane dropped it as it started smoking. Furious, Jane spun to the bar.

Sitting on a sink in the bathroom, having monitored the entire exchange with her own phone, Roxy giggled.


	5. School (Equius/Nepeta): T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for bullying autistic individuals.
> 
> Y'all don't know how pumped I was to write this, it's over 3,000 words long.

Her name was Nepeta  Leijon.

Equius knew her vaguely, just as another classmate in a large class who’d been going to the same school as he for years. She was a small girl, bound to fits of emotional highs, and she was autistic.

His friends called her a retard.                                           

He never saw it his place to correct them.

~~~

“This will be a partner project. You’ll need to write an essay and prepare a presentation, all _en français_. You’ll draw for partners.” The teacher held out a bowl. “Ones go with ones, twos with twos, and so on.”

Equius reached into the bowl and drew out a scrap of paper that was comically small in his large, muscular hands. He unfolded it and stared inquisitively at the number, “5”, scrawled in ink that bled into the paper around it.

“Five…” he whispered to himself, glancing around the room. Everyone had already paired off, which made it very clear to him exactly who held the other number five.

The classroom fell into a hush as Equius stood and crossed the room to Nepeta’s desk. She didn’t look up when he stood beside her; rather, she continued scribbling away on the tablet that was constantly with her. It was a staple of her person; Nepeta Leijon may have been a rather unremarkable girl, and her disability tended to make people avoid her, but everyone knew that that tablet was always with her.

Equius cleared his throat. Behind him, people in the class began whispering. Their words were unkind.

“Nepeta.”

The girl looked up at him, eyes wide as they always were, as if she were trying to maximize her ability to see. The expression, honestly, made her look less than intelligent.

“We’re,” Equius had to suppress a sigh of frustration, “Supposed to be working on a project. We’ve been assigned a region of France, Alsace-”

Nepeta interrupted him. “Yeah.” She held up her tablet.

On the page that she had opened, she had already begun scribbling notes, all in perfect French, on her knowledge of the region of Alsace.

Equius reminded himself that Nepeta was French-American.

~~~

The last class of the day was Art, and it was another class that Equius shared with Nepeta. It was a fairly free-reign class, with everyone compiling artwork to turn in as a portfolio at the end of the semester, so everyone tended to do their own thing.

Nepeta always came in with a sketchbook packed with scraps of paper. She would sit on one of the beanbags in the room, spread out her supplies, and draw continuously until the bell rang. Then, she would pack up and quickly scurry out of the room.

Equius wondered if he should stop her before she left, stop her and try to set up a meeting time, a plan to follow.

He didn’t.

~~~

The next day, in French, was a work day. Equius and Nepeta were hunched over two desks pushed together, writing and drawing out plans for their presentation. Nepeta was easily distracted, but a surprisingly diligent worker, Equius found; the two talked about their plans, and she had some very good ideas.

When there were about twenty minutes left in class, they had a visitor. Vriska Serket, who took German, came in to deliver something to the teacher. She caught sight of Equius and Nepeta working.

“Wow, Eq, I feel sorry for you. Having to work with the tard? Geez!”

Equius looked at Vriska as she spoke, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nepeta shrink back into her chair.

“Vriska, that’s impolite.”

“Well!” Vriska tossed her hair. “Whatever. See you, Eq.” As she walked away, Vriska jostled Nepeta’s chair, but Nepeta wasn’t fazed. She continued to stare down at her tablet, drawing little doodles with the stylus.

When Vriska was gone, Equius turned back to Nepeta. “Nepeta, I’m…” He wanted to say _sorry_ , to apologize for Vriska’s words, but he couldn’t quite find the words to say it. “That was… mean of her. Don’t listen…” He stopped when he realized that Nepeta wasn’t replying. “Nepeta?”

Despite Equius’s greatest efforts, Nepeta didn’t reply or look up from her tablet for the rest of class. The one time he managed to even see her eyes, he saw that they were blank. She had retreated into her mind. She was gone.

~~~

That night, Equius decided to forego his usual robotics projects in favor of researching autism, so that he could learn how to better interact with Nepeta. The internet held all of the information that he needed at his fingertips, but the more he searched, the more he found himself hopeless. None of the articles told him how he was supposed to communicate with her, but he kept trying; whenever he felt near giving up, he just pictured the way she had looked after Vriska had spoken so cruelly of her. It caused a pang in his chest.

~~~

Equius noted that Nepeta had recovered from whatever episode she had had the day before by the way she interacted with her own group of friends. During lunch period, Equius kept an eye out for her; they had some mutual acquaintances, but they were more acquaintances on his part, and friends on hers. He saw her talking to Aradia Megido, a former crush of Equius’s, and Sollux Captor, the reason Equius no longer harbored a crush on the female in the lovestruck couple. Equius knew she also would hang out with Terezi Pyrope, Karkat Vantas, and Tavros Nitram.

He mentally battled with himself over whether or not to approach her.

When she got up to leave the cafeteria, Equius followed after her. He fell into step beside her, but didn’t know what to say. He tried.

“Nepeta-”

“Geez, Nepeta!” Vriska appeared out of nowhere. “Way to be clingy! Can’t you see Equius has better things to do with his time than talk to you?”

Equius cut his eyes to Vriska, but his sunglasses prevented the look from being effective. Beside him, Nepeta stopped walking. So did he.

“Equius, I just don’t see why you’re having to spend your time babysitting this retard.”

Equius stepped forward, unconsciously reaching behind him to brush Nepeta’s shoulder, a minor gesture encouraging her to step behind him. She moved nearly unperceptively to the side.

“Vriska, I believe it would be best if you stopped talking.”

Vriska’s smirk dropped, and she scoffed. “Just remember who your real friends are.” She stalked off.

Equius glared after her, but as soon as she was out of sight, he turned back to Nepeta. He knit his brows when he noticed her blank expression.

“Nepeta, please.” He knelt to her level and placed a hand on her shoulder as gently as he could. She still didn’t respond. Equius glanced around nervously. If someone were to see them, they’d want to come over and pester Nepeta with questions, and Equius knew that wasn’t what she needed.

He led her away from the open sidewalk, just trying to get her someplace she could relax. He found that place to be the empty art room.

Equius led Nepeta to the place she normally occupied and sat her down. He didn’t quite know what to do then, so he just sat by her and waited.

He was missing his next class period. It was French.

They really should have been working on their project.

But this was more important.

~~~

It took a while, but Nepeta eventually came back to herself. Equius didn’t realize this until she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and leaned into him.

“Thank you.”

~~~

Things went smoothly for the next week. Equius found Nepeta’s company much more agreeable than he had originally assumed, and certainly much more agreeable than those of his other “friends”, as Vriska had labeled his usual gang.

Speaking of which, Vriska and her cronies had only increased in their taunts, though most of them bypassed Equius and went straight for Nepeta. She would retreat to her tablet then, letting herself be drawn into her doodles, letting that be her escape. A few times, the two wound up in the art room, Equius just waiting, watching Nepeta for any sign of recognition.

It worried him, when he would call her name, and she wouldn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

~~~

“Well, the project’s almost over, right? You’ve only got a few days left. Then, you can finally wash your hands of the tard.”

Equius glared at his teammate. It was after football practice one day, and one of his teammates was egging him on, again, about Nepeta.

“She’s not a retard, and I’d like it if you’d refrain from using such crude terms.”

“She is.”

“Yeah!” Chimed another teammate.

“Stop.” Equius insisted.

“Admit it, Eq! She’s a retard. Shit, why do you keep hanging out with her?”

“She’s nice.” Equius released his grip on his metal water bottle, which he had started squeezing when they had started goading him. That was another twenty dollars down the drain.

“You don’t wanna associate yourself with her. She’ll cling to you, man, the tards always do. You’ll never shake her.”

“Stop talking about her like that!” Equius didn’t make a habit of raising his voice, and his volume only increased involuntarily.

“Admit it! She’s a retard! She’s holding you back! You know you want to say it, Equius. High-brow guy like you, having to tow around a tard like that, it’s gotta get to you. Don’t lie.” His teammate got closer. Equius was big, muscular, and tall, but this guy was taller.

“I…” Equius looked away. He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, it gets to me. I…” Equius nearly choked on his own words, “I hate having to… to…”

“To babysit her? Have her follow you like a stray cat? That what you wanna say, Eq?”

Equius felt his heart sink. He couldn’t stop himself. “Yes.”

And then, he grabbed his bag and left.

~~~

Behind the gym was the parking lot.

That was where Equius was headed.

That was where something else was already going down.

When Equius got there, all he heard was screaming.

He saw Vriska and Nepeta on the sidewalk. Vriska was standing over Nepeta, screaming at her, and Nepeta was kneeling on the ground. All of her belongings were scattered around her.Before Equius could say anything, Nepeta lunged for Vriska, shrieking, and tackled her. The two rolled around, kicking and slapping and punching and scratching.

Equius broke out of his haze after a moment, rushing over to the two. “Enough!”

Both girls heard him, and stopped. Nepeta was on top, but she quickly backed off. Vriska was left lying on her back.

“Thank God you’re here, Equius. This little freak just started attacking me out of nowhere!” She pulled herself up on one arm and glared before turning pitiful eyes to Equius.

Only to be met with the cold glint of cracked lenses. Equius knelt to help Vriska up, but as soon as she was on her feet, he stepped past her.

“Get out of here.”

Vriska made a noise of protest, but Equius had moved on. He knelt to Nepeta’s level, not even registering the sound of Vriska’s quickly fading footsteps.

“Nepeta, are you alright?”

Nepeta didn’t respond to him. She was too busy looking at her tablet, which she had placed in her lap. It was shattered.

After a minute,  Nepeta looked up at Equius. Her eyes weren’t very focused.

“It’s broken.”

The expression in her eyes was just tragic.

“It’s broken.”

“I know. Nepeta, I’m sorry.”

Nepeta’s gaze slipped down, but her eyes were still blank. “It’s… broken.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“I know, Nepeta. I know it’s broken-”

“It’s broken.”

“And I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Nepeta, this is all-”

“It’s…”

Equius wrapped his arms around Nepeta and gently pulled her to him. “Broken. It’s broken. I…” he took a deep breath, “I know.”

~~~

After a few minutes, he backed away and picked up some more of her stuff that had fallen. It was just her books and sketchbook. But when he gathered them, he knocked the sketchbook, and it opened. What he saw on the opened page made his heart hurt just a little more.

~~~

Nepeta didn’t come to school for the next few days. Their project lost progress, since Nepeta had some of the vital requirements to completing it. Equius spent his days in French aimlessly wondering about her.

All he felt was guilt over what happened.

Nepeta had only been targeted because of Equius’s acquaintances, he was sure of it.

These acquaintances had, for the most part, avoided him since it happened. On the first day, he expected it. On the second day, he realized he really didn’t mind that they left him alone. It was peaceful, if not a little lonely.

On the third day, the loneliness was banished at lunch.

“Equius?”

Equius looked up from his lunch. Aradia Megido, surprisingly, had torn herself away from her clique, but not from her boyfriend, and was standing next to him.

“I heard about Vriska and Nepeta. I just wanted to say thanks, for looking out for her. She can’t always express it well, but Nepeta really likes you. I’ve never seen her take to someone so quickly.”

“Ah, thank you. The sentiment is returned.” Equius realized he may have made a faux pas. “Ah, of her, I mean, that is-”

“Would you like to sit with us?” Aradia said, interrupting him.

Sollux, who had been quiet the whole time, spoke up then. “AA-”

“Hush, Sollux.” Aradia playfully batted his shoulder. Earlier, Equius would have refused, not being sure as to whether or not he could sit with that couple. He still refused, but for a different reason.

~~~

After school on the third day, Equius stayed late to finish up a project for art. His mind was distracted, thinking of the impending French project deadline, which was the next day. His work was taking twice as long as usual.

Around six, he finally put up his supplies and left, expecting an empty campus on the walk back to his car.

That wasn’t what he saw.

Nepeta stood under the awning by the door, just out of reach of the spray of rain that had started in the early afternoon. She watched the downpour absently.

“Nepeta?” Equius said, approaching her. “What are you doing here?” He placed a hand on her shoulder.

Nepeta blinked a few times, turning her gaze to Equius’s face. She opened her mouth to speak, but initially, nothing came out.

“Equius!” she suddenly yelped, jumping. She pulled her backpack off of her shoulders and dug around inside, pulling out some papers. She held them out to him. “We have to finish our project!”

~~~

It was decided that they would go to Equius’s house. His was closer to the school. Apparently, Nepeta’s mother had dropped her off after school had ended at Nepeta’s insistence; she really wanted to finish the project. Equius communicated with Nepeta’s mother, explaining their plan to go to his house and work, and told her that he would drop Nepeta off at home when they were done.

With Mrs. Leijon’s approval, Equius drove Nepeta to his house. The two of them got down to business. Once again, Equius was surprised by Nepeta’s work ethic, once she put her mind to something.

Within a mere few hours, they were done with probably the best damn French project their teacher had ever seen.

And so, Nepeta had to go home.

The best way to get from Equius’s house to Nepeta’s was to take the freeway. It was still raining, and it had grown dark outside, but that didn’t seem like it would be an issue.

Only when they got to the freeway, and the heavens above them opened up, did they realize they were wrong.

Equius turned on his hazards and pulled to the side of the road when he could no longer see what was in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Nepeta, but I don’t think we can go anywhere until the storm lets up.” Equius put the car in park and turned to her. Nepeta nodded, but her attention was turned to the rain, a nervous expression on her face.

Equius could tell Nepeta was tense; he was at a threat of losing her again. But he reached out to her, as gently as he could, and stroked her hair.

“It’ll, uh,” he was never great at comforting. “It’ll be alright.”

His gesture seemed to work. Nepeta leaned into the touch, turning her eyes from the torrent beyond the glass.

Equius didn’t know if he should stop or not, so he just kept stroking her hair.

“Vriska was mean,” Nepeta said after a minute, “to you.”

“Huh?” Equius pulled back.

“She was saying all sorts of mean stuff about you in the parking lot. And it made me mad. ‘Cause I like you a lot.”

Equius cast his gaze to the stitching on the dashboard, unsure if he could meet Nepeta’s eyes. He immediately thought of the picture in her sketchbook.

When he had picked it up for her and it had fallen open, the sketchbook revealed a drawing Nepeta had done of Equius. His sunglasses were gone, and he was looking off to the side. It was really an excellent drawing.

Nepeta had taken red paint and drawn a large heart around the sketch.

Equius looked at Nepeta, recalling in the back of his mind what Aradia had said to him. He reached forward again, letting his hand barely brush her cheek. His brown crinkled, and he put so much focus into not exerting too much strength. But Nepeta wasn’t someone he needed to treat like a china doll. She was strong.

Stronger than that.

She had faced off against Vriska, and held her own, and all for him.

“I know.”

Ever so slowly, ever so softly, Equius leaned forward to kiss her.


End file.
